


we could just kiss (like real people do)

by womanaction



Series: AA Missing Scenes & Episode Tags [6]
Category: Community (TV)
Genre: Episode Tag, F/M, Post-Finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-12
Updated: 2017-05-12
Packaged: 2018-10-31 01:00:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10888575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/womanaction/pseuds/womanaction
Summary: Shippy missing scene from 6x13 "Emotional Consequences of Broadcast Television." Abed and Annie say their goodbyes at the airport.





	we could just kiss (like real people do)

**Author's Note:**

> Obviously this would be the last episode tag chronologically (and also the most unambiguously shippy because I don't have to worry about fitting it in canon), but I may go back and add in some earlier ones if I feel like it.

Abed’s been waiting for them to have their moment since they made their respective pronouncements. They’re both leaving, and it is customary for all of the important relationships to have some sort of wrap-up in a series finale – and as much as they were all hesitant to say so, there was a definite sense of finality.

Since Troy left, Annie had become the most important person to him in the group. It was strange to think that six years ago he’d envisioned their relationship as one of the most distant in the group, the proverbial “Phoebe and Chandler.” He isn’t even sure where in the Friends framework they’d fit now. Rachel and Joey? They had been an odd, little-used pairing until they started living together out of necessity. Eventually, they had become inseparable and Joey had fallen in love with Rachel.

It’s probably not a perfect metaphor.

Anyway. Their finale moment had been steamrolled again and again by Britta, who kept loudly encouraging them to express their emotions honestly while keeping them from actually doing so. He had thought it might just be postponed till their final night in the apartment, but Britta had brought an alarming amount of alcohol home to celebrate their new career paths. In one of their brief moments alone, Annie had pointed out that Britta was probably feeling left out, since they were both leaving (and both younger than her), so they should just humor her.

So now, at the airport, it’s their last chance to have their moment before the reunion episode (movie?). They walk to the security checkpoint together, not in silence but chatting meaninglessly. He keeps sneaking glances at her, trying to make sure he doesn’t miss the moment when it arises. But there’s nothing cinematic about waiting in line for security, so he just nods as she tells him about where she’ll be living and wonders aloud how things will be in the FBI. He makes a half-hearted X-Files reference and she smiles. He’s glad he has all this footage of Annie on his hard drive so he won’t forget all of her expressions.

After a few minutes of trying to time his eye contact and smile appropriately so the TSA won’t think he’s even more suspicious, and with Annie waiting obviously and impatiently at the other side, they’re both through security, the last hurdle they had together. Their gates are on opposite sides of the airport, and their destinations are on opposite sides of the country. That’s a good line, he thinks for a second before he hears Annie drop her luggage and feels her wrap her arms around him in a bone-crushing hug. He feels her withdraw when he doesn’t respond immediately so he quickly puts his arms around her as well.

He’s hugged Annie before plenty of times. He’s even hugged her goodbye, but he’s never hugged her goodbye like this, like he might never see her again. Her warmth seems to radiate through his body. It’s rare that Abed, visual as he is, closes his eyes, but he does so now to soak in her smell (since, unfortunately, technology has not developed enough to let him capture that).

He’s not sure how long this hug is supposed to last, so he just waits for her to pull away. It takes a long time. When she withdraws, she presses a kiss to his cheek. It’s nothing she hasn’t done before, but this time he feels compelled to reach up and touch the spot with his hand, as so many protagonists have done before him.

Abed wonders if he’s supposed to return the gesture. He never has before, but this is a special circumstance. It would demonstrate character and relationship growth and give a certain symmetry to their last interaction. Also, he wants to.

While he’s been contemplating this course of action, Annie has teared up a little. She’s also been talking, but he can’t reach through the haze to recall what she’s said. He’s not sure how to comfort her here in this crowded airport. He puts his hands on her shoulders and pauses for a second, but she’s still talking and she’s starting to genuinely cry. He leans in to brush his lips against her cheek but something happens – she turns at the last second. “What are you-” she gets out before his lips meet hers. When they touch, he freezes.

This isn’t his role. This was supposed to be a gesture of friendship. Some part of Abed reminds him that they are both unattached (things with Rachel had fallen apart long before he decided to leave), but that doesn’t change the fact that things like this aren’t supposed to happen with them outside of in-character moments.

Those are all of the thoughts he has before her lips soften against his and he feels her arms come up around him again. After that, he only has capacity to process the feeling of her all around him, pressing against him, almost moving through him. He wishes he could step outside himself and see what they look like having a Big Damn Kiss in the middle of an airport. If it looks even half as epic as it feels, it must be cinematic gold.

Abed doesn’t realize he’s out of breath until they break apart. He wonders if that should embarrass him. Annie’s no longer crying, but he doesn’t understand the expression on her face. He opens his mouth to say something, but she gives him a small, enigmatic smile. “You don’t have to say anything,” she says, and even through the tears he can recognize that it’s her setting-down-rules voice. Annie knows best with these things, which is one reason he usually upholds her rules.

He just nods. “Goodbye, Annie.”

“Goodbye, Abed.”

He walks to his gate alone. He realizes that he has no context for understanding what happened between them. He may have to build a mini-Dreamatorium when he reaches his destination. That may represent his character regressing, but he’s not sure how else to process this. If they were in a movie, it would have ended before they said goodbye. Or one of them would turn and watch the other and it would end there, ambiguous. He hadn’t turned to watch her.

He sits and stares at the Cinnabon across from him. Then his phone buzzes.

It’s Annie. _I put some snacks in your bag before we left.☺_

Abed unzips his bag. There’s a bag of pretzels and another of candy. Annie’s stuck post-its to both wishing him a good trip. She’s decorated them with little hearts and flowers. He smiles, and texts, _Thank you._ Then, thinking of the little hearts on the post-its, he sends a single red heart emoji. ♥

He tears open the bag of pretzels and starts to eat them, glad to have a temporary distraction. It’s too dangerous for him to get lost in his thoughts now. He might miss the boarding call.

His phone buzzes again. Annie has sent him simply two heart emoji. ♥♥

He’s not sure what this means, either. He turns his attention back to the pretzels. His phone buzzes yet again.

_There’s supposed to be in-flight entertainment. What should I watch?_

Abed smiles and begins typing.


End file.
